


New Blood

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Sex, Canadianisms, Fights, First Meetings, Hockey, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-02
Updated: 2009-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new hotshot centre on the team, and left-winger Sean is less than impressed. (Hockey!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Govi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/gifts), [bbunny (brodeurbunny30)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodeurbunny30/gifts).



> For Halloween, I offered to write ficlets for people who "knocked" on [my virtual!door](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/390087.html). Unfortunately, I am terribly behind, and only starting to move forward with them now. This one is for [](http://govi20.livejournal.com/profile)[**govi20**](http://govi20.livejournal.com/), whom I know is an afficionado of AUs. (I only hope she likes hockey. *G*) Additionally, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to [](http://brodeurbunny30.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://brodeurbunny30.livejournal.com/)**brodeurbunny30** , my go-to-gal for all things hockey-related. This piece would be a lot less accurate without her around to hold my hand, so it's also for her.

Sean exchanged a look with Harry as he slipped the guard out of his mouth and spat a stream of saliva and blood onto the ice. The new centre was a fucking hotshot, and they all knew it. He'd be good for half a season, and then burn out like all the rest. Maybe it'd be coke, maybe gambling, maybe puck bunnies, or maybe just a bum knee and a shit record once the pressure was on. He'd seen it before, and he'd see it again. It was just a shame they'd traded away Craig and Mark for this one; it'd be a long time before their second line would be as good as it was with those boys onboard.

Harry grunted as he took the water bottle from Sean's proffered hand. "High scorer, reads the ice well, always one step ahead, creative thinker, dirty in the corners..." He shook his head. "Next they'll be telling us he can make the puck fly out of his ass and slip through the five-hole."

Sean couldn't quite hold back a snort as "they" glanced over at Harry and Sean. Coach Rhys-Davies raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering away as he leaned over and spoke quietly to Elijah, sending the trainer scurrying back towards the tunnel.

On the ice, the new centre with the fucking awful name stole the puck from Dave, skidded around his flank and smoothly passed it to Karl. Karl flicked it at Orlando, who reached up out of the net and caught it neatly in a glove, his eyes never leaving the new boy.

"Speaking of hotshots," Sean rumbled under his breath, earning him a rare grin from Harry.

Dave's grin was even wider as he nudged the centre hard enough to make the two of them stumble and almost go down against the boards. Sean sighed and rolled his eyes, silently wondering how long the goodwill would hold out once the game was on the line and the new boy failed to live up to expectations.

"If he's addicted to suicide passes like the last one was, I'll pound his scrawny little arse into the ground." Sean rolled his shoulder, the memory of the last time it was wrenched out of its socket still fresh in his mind. That and a sprained ankle had kept him as close to flat on his back as he was willing to get without someone naked and sweating above him.

Harry slid a little closer, passing the water bottle back. He shrugged. "It is a nice ass. Given a chance, I'd be after it too."

"You know what I mean." Sean could feel the irritation rising, thick and hot in the back of his throat.

"Oh, _I_ know," Harry murmured, his breath hot on Sean's cheek. "That's how it started with us, wasn't it?" Another quick flash of teeth was all Sean saw before Harry pushed off from the boards and skated away, leaving Sean scowling.

It'd been years. Angry, hot, violent years where skirmishes on the ice led to rumbles in the dressing room, and from there tumbles into hotel bed after bed. But the passion had cooled, the fire banked until Harry and Sean played like two halves of one well-oiled machine. They were good together, but only when ice and sticks and padding separated them. Strip those things away, and they were nothing but brawlers, every moment a new chance to deke one another out. One of Sean's worst shiners had come at the hands of Harry while they were off the ice; that was right about when they'd realized the rink was the only place the two of them should ever tangle.

Still, they'd been good years while they lasted.

"Nice hustle, Mortensen," Coach Csokas shouted, snapping Sean out of his reverie. The rest of the players were making their way to the bench, practise over, and Sean had the sense he'd missed something important. He sighed, waiting for coach or trainer to pull him aside even as he fell in line behind the other men, slowly making his way to the dressing room.

As he stepped off the rink, the new boy stopped in front of him. He yanked off his glove and held out a hand, a winning smile spreading over his face. "Viggo," he murmured, by way of introduction, his hand sinking back to his side when Sean didn't immediately reach for it. "I'm looking forward to working with you. With all of you."

"Yeah. Sure. We all are." The words felt empty in Sean's mouth, frozen as it was in a tight smile. "But for now, let's just keep moving forward, yeah?"

"Oh. Right." Viggo swallowed visibly, turning around and hurrying to catch up with the rest of the team.

Sean couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught sight of the faintest flush at the nape of Viggo's neck, underneath a swaying curtain of damp hair. It was probably nothing more than a trick of the light, or maybe the lingering marks of exertion. It certainly wasn't anything Sean should waste time thinking about. He wet his lips, his gaze sliding down Viggo's back even as they shuffled forward into the dimness of the tunnel. If this one fucked up like the last, Sean would make sure he paid, and paid dearly. They'd had enough fuckups to last anyone ten seasons, maybe more. If he didn't live up to the hype, Sean'd take it out of his hide. He'd pound him, that was for certain. _Pound his tight, round arse right into the ground._

**Author's Note:**

> ** Hockey Terminology: **
> 
> **"Hockey" vs. "Ice Hockey":** In Canada, ice hockey is simply referred to as "hockey." The default assumption is that any game of hockey is going to be played on ice, whether it's indoor or outdoor. If it's not, _then_ descriptors are added, so you get "road hockey," "street hockey," "field hockey," and "ball hockey." (The same holds for skiing, and to a lesser extent, skating; the dominant versions don't need adjectives.) Many communities, large and small, have outdoor rinks where the residents can simply show up and play. Indoor rinks abound as well, but may require booking in advance. Lakes and ponds, once they've frozen enough, are fair game, and often you'll see signs that make it clear which area is for skating and which for hockey, to minimize arguments over space.
> 
> **Left Winger:** (And, conversely, right winger.) A winger is a player who is part of the forward line, flanking the centre position. Many have different specialties, such as goal scoring, movement/plays within the corners/against the boards, and checking (smacking into other players on the opposing team with the intention of knocking them off balance/away from the puck or simply for intimidation purposes).
> 
> **Guard:** In this case, a mouth guard, a protective piece of (usually) soft plastic, designed to minimize damage to the mouth during high-contact sports. They have a tendency to fill up with saliva and other bodily fluids.
> 
> **Centre:** The middle forward position. The centre is flanked by the two wingers, making up one full line of three players that almost always play together (i.e. when they're swapped out for fresh players between plays, they're _all_ swapped out at once). Centres are the main strategists on the ice, and are responsible for covering more ice than anyone else.
> 
> **Puck Bunnies:** Professional hockey's version of female groupies. Yeah. Just take a moment and think about what "puck" rhymes with. ...There you go. Now you know all you need to know.
> 
> **Second Line:** There are six players on the ice from a team at any one time, typically made up of two "lines" and one goalie. The forward line consists of a left winger, a centre and a right winger, while the blue line is the left and right defencemen. As hockey generally tends towards anaerobic exercise, the lines are frequently swapped out throughout the game, allowing fresh players to relieve tired ones. Each line plays as one unit. The first lines are generally made up of the more offensively-skilled players who see the most minutes in any game. (In this story, Sean, Viggo and Harry make up that first forward line.) The second line is also offensive (vs. defensive), and while not necessarily made up of the very top echelon of players on the team, they're there to continue the offensive push started by the first line. (Conversely, the third line rides the line between offensive and defensive -- and is often where the real bruisers are -- and fourth line is primarily defensive.)
> 
> **"Reads the Ice Well":** This is a lot like reading greens in golf. It's about knowing and recognizing the condition of the rink and the players on it. It's about being able to understand how and where the puck will go, and where the players -- both your own and opposing ones -- will likely move. Essentially, this is where good strategy and thinking ahead comes in handy.
> 
> **"Dirty in the Corners":** Someone who isn't afraid to get into the tighter, more physical spaces during the game -- generally the corners of the rink -- to dig out the puck and bring it back into play. Most of the time, if you're going to get injured, it's going to be in these spaces.
> 
> **Five-Hole:** The space between a goalie's legs.
> 
> **Tunnel:** Pretty much what it sounds like. It's the dark hallway that leads from the rink to the dressing rooms and other hidden areas of an arena.
> 
> **Boards:** Simply the walls and plexiglass that enclose the rink itself.
> 
> **Suicide Passes:** Passes that force the receiving player to turn his attention away from the play in order to find the puck, _guaranteeing_ that he'll be decked as soon as he touches it. (Definition provided by [](http://brodeurbunny30.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://brodeurbunny30.livejournal.com/)**brodeurbunny30**.)
> 
> **Deke:** A Canadianism derived from "decoy." To deke is to fake out an opponent, and while originally it referred only to game strategies, it has spread into wider usage, meaning any sort of deceptive or avoidant tactic.
> 
> **Bench:** Exactly what it sounds like. Where all dressed players (and coaches) sit during the game, waiting for their turn on the ice.


End file.
